


And the Winners Lose It All

by Barb G (troutkitty)



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-10-03
Updated: 1999-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-24 15:14:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troutkitty/pseuds/Barb%20G
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Down to the last two, and for Methos no one is the Winner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the Winners Lose It All

It's a rotten day for it.

I hug my jacket to my body. The wind whips at me and my eyes water. My ears roar with the blood in my veins. I ache all over. This is it.

The clouds approach, black as necrosing flesh. The storm's come for us. The pull on my body is stronger than the wind. I can hear, taste, smell him. Feel his blood. I pull my sword.

"Methos?"

I look at him. I am not going to die. Not after five thousand years. Not for him.

Oh, yeah, right.

The storm strikes with bullet-sized raindrops. We both jump at the thunder. I had planned to kneel down, suck his cock, and offer my head. That was the plan.

Fuck that, too.

I lunge. He parries. Lunge. Feint. My breath catches in my throat. Mac's shocked. Good. So am I. I'm not going to die. Not today. I'm soaked. So is he. I can see his breath; mine's just as ragged. Water drips in my eyes. I'm blind.

He's better than I am. Mac doesn't want to, but he's getting angry. I am angry. I attack. He attacks.

Shit-fucking whoreson! MacLeod twists and slaps my blade. My wrist snaps. Christ, it hurts. I drop the sword, and MacLeod's arms hold me tight.

"Methos, no!"

The storm is getting worse. He drops me to the ground as a tree near us is struck by lightening, splitting it. The ozone's in my nose. I can't help the sob as he crushes me. His hair whips my face and I spit it out.

"I love you," he tells me. It doesn't help.

Rain bounces off the ground. I sneeze. Mac's arms tighten. The Gathering pulls me harder. How can he ignore it? I grit my teeth almost hard enough to shatter them. The storm's howling, but it can't win so it lashes out. Trees fall all around us. I'm drowning in the run-off.

The thunder breaks and I realize I'm screaming. Mac's sobbing. I bang my head. Mac stops me. I bite him. He swears. I bite him again. Blood. I swallow.

And then...the storm ends. The winds die and the rain turns to a shower. It's over. The pull stops. I move my jaw. Mac kisses my hair, whispering things I don't care about anymore.

My wrist has stopped healing.

Mac's behind me. I feel his breath, but not him. The storm moves away, taking the prize with it. I try to push up, but Mac's on me.

He gets off and I sit up, cradling my wrist. I feel my body dying, but Mac only grins. "It's over," he said. I see he wants to kiss me.

I want to kill him. Everything is over. I'm dying. An hour, a week, fifty years...when doesn't matter. He doesn't get it.

"Did you hear me? It's finished."

"Yes, it is," I said. The charged remains of the forest is all around me as I stand up. He's killed me. It's over.


End file.
